


if you believe in magic, come along with me

by mainvocal



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Comedy of Errors, Denial of Feelings, Getting Together, Light Pining, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-28 00:54:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19801357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mainvocal/pseuds/mainvocal
Summary: Deep down, Kun knows Ten didn't ask to join Card Magic Club because he'd suddenly become enamored with the art of card tricks.Or: The 5 times Ten fails to impress Kun + the 1 time he does.





	if you believe in magic, come along with me

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from " **do you believe in magic** " by the lovin' spoonful... or really, aly & aj.
>
>> **prompt:** kun’s card magic club gets a new member in the form of dance scholarship prodigy ten. kun doesn’t know what ten’s there for, but it’s clearly not card tricks.
> 
> **to the person who requested this:** this was the perfect prompt for kunten, so i sincerely hope i did the idea justice, because i had way too much fun writing these two.
> 
>  **to the people behind the scenes who made this possible:** thank you, because i couldn't have done it without you.

**1.**

Kun is pretty sure the universe is conspiring against him.

Or, at the very least, _Dong Sicheng_ is conspiring against him. He wouldn’t put it past him, not after the smirk he’d thrown over his shoulder while dumping the half-eaten remains of his lunch in the trash, all before telling Kun to “ _enjoy his club meeting_ ” knowingly — like they were sharing a secret, only Kun wasn’t privy to whatever secret it was that they were supposed to be sharing. That was last week, only some mere hours before Ten had seemingly turned the world on its axis and asked, very nicely, to join Card Magic Club.

“Remember how you said it couldn’t get any worse?” Kun mutters, barely bothering to lift his head to peer across the table. Taeil only leans back in his chair, smile bright. “It’s managed to get worse.”

Taeil laughs. “It couldn’t have been _that_ bad,” he says easily. Kun should hate him for the careless lilt in his voice; Taeil clearly doesn't understand his pain — hell, it's like he's trying to undermine it. Taeil is Taeil, though, his partner in crime, and Kun can't hate him, even as much as he wants to sometimes. 

“You weren’t there,” Kun stresses, like that somehow makes a difference. 

Maybe it does, maybe it doesn't. But Taeil wasn’t there to witness Ten pressed against the doorframe, bangs visibly damp and sticking to his forehead, sweats hanging dangerously low on his hips. Taeil wasn’t there to witness the way Ten’s mouth had curled around the question, “ _do you think you could add another member?_ ”, tongue darting out after to wet his lips in anticipation — a tease, or maybe an invitation. Taeil wasn’t there to witness Ten being Ten, and these days, that feels like the beginning and the end of everything.

It makes a difference to him, at least.

“You know he’s harmless, right?” Taeil asks then. “It’s just Ten.”

Kun’s beginning to think that might be the problem.

Ten’s all Kun hears about some days, when Sicheng makes a point of flopping face-first into a mess of dirty laundry and loose papers on the bed that isn’t his, mouth mashed against the few inches of exposed comforter while his limbs starfish in out in every direction. His stories and praises are thankfully muffled, but Kun always gets the gist of them all the same. 

“He’s a great dancer,” Sicheng said during the first week of the spring semester, back when Ten’s transfer in had been all anyone could manage to talk about. His head was pillowed on Kun’s shoulder, fingers toying with the strings of a hoodie Kun's pretty sure he'd seen in his own closet a few days prior. “He’s a prodigy. Did you know he’s here on scholarship?”

Kun hadn’t jostled Sicheng enough to get a clear look at his face, but if he'd looked, he's pretty sure he would have seen stars in his eyes. Maybe even a galaxy; a child-like wonder and admiration that he might have found endearing, if it hadn’t made him want to throw up, just a little.

It was foolish, expecting a reprieve after the first month, when the shininess of the dance team's latest and greatest toy wore down to a dull and disappointing finish. If anything, the following months brought the opposite. 

Kun isn’t sure Ten knows how to be _dull_.

The more Ten wormed himself into their tight-knit social circle, tagging along for brunch at the quaint hidden gem of a café downtown, throwing an arm around Sicheng's shoulders the minute he came through the door at Jackson Wang's bi-weekly rager, the worse it'd gotten.

“That’s the thing,” Kun blurts out, hanging his head in his hands. “It’s _just_ Ten. Why does everything make a big deal out of everything he does? I watched him squirt beer out of his nose at Jackson’s party last week because he was laughing too hard, and people cooed. People _cooed_ , Taeil.”

Taeil shrugs, popping a bite of pickled radish into his mouth. He chews thoughtfully for a moment, tapping his chopsticks against his plate to the beat of whatever song the dining hall is playing, and suddenly, as it always does right before Taeil’s about to make one of his many good — albeit often unsolicited — points, the room feels a little too hot, a bit too stifling. Kun’s about to stop him when he swallows unceremoniously and leans forward to whisper, “why do _you_ make a big deal out of everything he does?”

And that’s…

That’s decidedly not the point.

“I have to go,” Kun says abruptly, standing up from the table in such a rush that his knee bangs loudly against the leg, the glass of water he neglected to drink teetering dangerously. He grabs for his backpack to swing it over his shoulder, fumbling for his wallet in his back pocket so he can push a few bills across the table in Taeil’s direction. “For my portion,” he mumbles, though there’s no need. It’s Taeil’s turn for the tab, anyway. “I don’t want to be late.”

It’s not that he’s running from the truth; he’s just practicing the art of self-preservation, a skill Johnny likes to talk about when he’s thrown back one too many and thinks, earnestly, that being three years into a Psychology Undergrad qualifies him to give everyone he comes across life advice.

Maybe it’s that Taeil’s question sent an undeniable thrum of something — something he’d prefer not to name — through his gut, churning white-hot and heady, and maybe… maybe he isn’t entirely ready to think about that.

“Have fun!” Taeil singsongs, pocketing the bills before offering a small wave. And then, in a rush, like Kun could possibly forget his manners during the grueling trek from the dining hall to the other side of campus, “Don’t be too hard on him! It’s just Ten!”

Kun manages a rather pathetic, half-salute in Taeil’s direction before he’s spinning on his heel, hightailing it out of the dining hall to the sound of Taeil’s laughter behind him.

For whatever its worth, Kun succeeds in not thinking about it while walking across campus. He presses his earbuds into his ears and thumbs up the volume until the familiar melodies of Red Velvet’s greatest hits are all he can hear, and thinks about everything and anything but Ten _or_ Taeil’s far too perceptive smile over lunch. _"_ Rookie" has a way of numbing the brain, he guesses.

The thing is: he’s not impressed by Ten.

He’s _not._

The rest of the world might be, but Qian Kun isn’t that easily swayed.

Yet when he climbs the stairs to the second floor, fishing the key to the Card Magic Club’s usual room from his pocket, and sees Ten leaning against the wall with his hands shoved deep in his pockets and a grin playing at the corners of his mouth, that unmistakable flash of _something_ is back.

And like everything, that’s how it all starts.

♡

**2.**

The first thing Kun says to Ten when he walks over to where he’s sitting next to Chenle is, “You’re doing it wrong.”

He doesn’t bother to elaborate immediately, and Ten hums curiously, inspecting the splay of cards on the table like they hold all the answers. What he lacks in technique, he makes up for in enthusiasm, Kun supposes. Whether or not it’s genuine… the jury’s still out.

“Kun-ge,” Chenle starts, cupping his chin in his hands. His smile is almost blinding, big and bright and innocent, and Kun’s tried, but becoming immune to it is an ongoing process. Currently, he’s struggling. “Show us?”

It's not like he's ever been able to say no to Chenle; he'd been wrapped around his finger as early as his senior year of high school, when Chenle had been the wide-eyed and wondering counterpart to Kun's jaded, senior angst. And he still can't say no now, even when what Chenle wanted for his last birthday had left Kun's bank account looking a little sad and a whole lot pathetic. The little $6.50 glaring at him from beneath the _Remaining Balance_ header had haunted him for weeks until he'd managed to pick up a few extra shifts at the bookstore to make up the difference. Even then, he's pretty sure he still has at least one nightmare about it a week. 

Of course, Chenle made up for it. Kun still wears the Apple Watch he'd gotten him for his own birthday a few weeks later, the band his favorite color. 

But it's safe to say, there's a soft spot in his heart that's Chenle sized and shaped.

Kun sighs and pulls out the chair on Chenle’s other side, flopping down onto it without preamble. “Your technique is off,” he says, keeping his gaze on Ten, lest he forget who the criticism is directed towards.

He reaches for the cards and shuffles them wordlessly, appreciating the familiarity of having a deck back in his hands. Even with Ten’s recent addition to the club, the metaphorical rocking of the boat, this is his element.

“Pick two cards,” Kun instructs when he’s done, fanning out the cards in his hand and gesturing with his chin for them to get on with it.

Ten picks one card while Chenle picks the other; he has half a mind to tell them that wasn’t what he meant, but they’re holding them out before he gets the chance. He sets the rest of the cards down and takes the two from them, placing one in front of the other before adjusting them in his hand, gripped between his index and middle fingers, and his thumb.

Kun loosens his grip slightly, just enough so that the top card shifts a bit when he tugs it downward with his middle finger. “You have to keep your grip light,” he explains, “like this.”

“When you tap the back of the cards as a distraction,” he continues, flicking the back of the cards with his other hand, “you pull the top card down and push the bottom card forward with your thumb. Then, your thumb will pull the first card up and behind the second card, so it looks like the cards have magically switched. Be careful, though. You don’t want to let the audience know that you’re holding two cards – it should look like you’re only holding one.”

Ten’s eyebrows furrow as the explanation continues, mouth settling into a straight line. He looks perplexed by it all, like he doesn’t quite understand, but is far too proud to ask for further instructions. Kun could go easy on him, take him through it step by step, but if that’s the game Ten wants to play…

“Do you want to try again?” He asks lightly, holding out the two cards for Ten to take.

He watches silently as Ten repositions the cards in his hand, one perfectly behind the other, grip appearing to be just right. Ten gives the cards a pointed flick on the upper corner with his opposite index finger, moving to pull down on the top card at the same time, tugging at it gently with his middle finger.

Chenle has the audacity to laugh when the cards fall from Ten’s hand to the table in a sad display of failure. There’s a mild disappointment etched on Ten’s face and a light dusting of embarrassment on his cheeks, and Kun absolutely isn’t drawn to the crease between his eyebrows, absolutely _isn’t_ wondering what it might feel like to smooth it away with the pad of his thumb.

“At least I tried, right?”

Chenle barks out another peal of laughter, like this is the funniest thing that he’s seen all week, and given that his circle of friends includes Lee Jeno and Na Jaemin, in addition to his self-proclaimed ride-or-die Park Jisung, Kun highly doubts that’s the case. And in retaliation, before Kun has the chance to reach out and stop it, Ten’s lifting his hand to flick Chenle’s ear.

Predictably, it dissolves into a playful fight from there, with Ten wrapping Chenle into a rather tight embrace to give him a noogie, knuckles ruffling his curls while Chenle repeats, “ _Hyung, stop!_ ” through his giggles like a mantra, throwing in the occasional and insincere apology just to continue to wind Ten up.

Kun watches with amusement for a moment before he goes to stand up, but in a flash, there’s fingers circling his wrist, warm and snug against his skin. He looks down to see Ten reaching over, gazing up at him with eyes that hold a silent plea, Chenle having gone quiet, and the reluctant sigh slips from his lips before he ever has the chance to bite it back.

“Okay,” he relents, “I’ll talk you through it step by step.”

♡

**3.**

Though Kun hates to admit it, not much has really changed since Ten joined Card Magic Club. Of course, there’s an extra pair of eyes peering over at him while he’s demonstrating the latest trick he found online, and an additional voice joining the fray when they’re discussing their thoughts on the latest episode of Arthdal Chronicles —

(“ _Song Joongki’s acting_ ,” Jaemin had sighed dreamily last week, cartoon hearts dancing in his eyes and swirling high above his head. “ _I could just..._ c _hef’s kiss_.”

Ten rolled his eyes, and at the same time as Jeno, muttered, “ _He can’t even act_.”

Kun spent the next twenty minutes trying to prevent the outbreak of World War III, club divided into those who thought Song Joongki could act, and those who were entitled to their wrong opinion. Sure, maybe it was his job to play unbiased mediator in these situations, but it certainly isn't his fault that Jeno is jealous and Ten is, apparently, blind.) 

But other than that, not much has changed. They still have more fun than anyone would expect from a club that spends the majority of their time deriving amusement from simple card tricks, and they still – more often than not – ditch said card tricks in favor of watching youtube videos or, evident the week before, the latest drama airing on cable.

The only thing that has changed is the obvious elephant in the room, decked out in a tutu and dancing _Swan Lake_ in the corner:

Ten’s overwhelmingly suffocating presence.

It’s not that Kun hates him. (In truth, he’s worried now that it’s growing to be the opposite, that the churning in the pit of his stomach when Ten leans over to whisper in his ear is no longer the thrum of annoyance but the thrum of something else entirely, something far less innocuous.) It’s that there’s no reprieve from him, no room to breathe, no escape from conflicting feelings at war in his chest, both sides hammering against his ribcage in time to the beating of his own heart.

On one hand, it’s a bad idea — a horrible idea. Perhaps the worst idea he’s had since he allowed Ten to join Card Magic Club in the first place. Ten doesn’t do relationships, and Kun’s fairly certain that’s not what he’s after anyway. He’s after a conquest, slipping in and out of beds all over campus, leaving a handful of broken hearts and a slew of rumors in his wake. Kun’s not about to become a notch on anyone’s bedpost, even if that bedpost is Ten's. It’s a bad idea.

On the other hand, sometimes Kun looks over and sees a flash of something in Ten’s eyes when their gazes meet. He sits back and thinks: _maybe_. He stands up and wonders: _what if_. He grabs his bag and concludes: _if only_.

Not that it matters, because it doesn’t.

That's not a road Kun will entertain going down; he'd never give Sicheng or Taeil the satisfaction.

“Kun, are you an invisible deck? Because you stun everyone.”

Scratch the aforementioned — _this_ is why it’s a bad idea.

“What are you talking about?” Kun quips, turning around to see Ten sitting on the edge of the table, thumbing through his phone with a Cheshire grin.

He looks up from his phone for a brief moment before turning his attention back to it, and Kun can see the way his eyes scan the screen. He almost wonders what it is that Ten's reading, but his grin spreads wider a second later, and he decides it's probably for the best that he doesn't know.

“I’m not an invisible deck, and I don’t stun anyone,” Kun says eventually, a bite of slight annoyance coupled with amusement. Sicheng dubs it the _Ten Effect_ — everyone falls victim to it eventually, and Kun can only watch in horror as he does the same.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Ten says under his breath, and then, after locking his phone and putting it down on the table, “Johnny sent me a list of magic inspired pick-up lines. I thought I’d try them out on someone who can… appreciate the humor. You weren’t impressed?”

“Do most of the people you hang out with find pick-up lines impressive?”

Ten shrugs. “Depends on the person. I’ll admit it, though. I thought I’d have better luck with you.”

“Mm,” Kun hums. “I’m sorry to disappoint, but I haven’t mastered the invisible deck yet.” Gesturing around the room, he adds, “With all of this, I don’t really have the time.”

“Oh,” is all Kun gets in response, sounding a little more reserved than Kun is used to hearing him, and though he isn’t entirely sure why, he’s desperate to take the words back, to somehow make up for it when—

“Well, that’s okay, I guess. I have more.” Ten pauses, considering, planning his next move. Planning his next attack. “Qian Kun, if you were a card in a deck, I would choose you.”

All Kun can do is groan.

♡

**4.**

If Kun were to get a second job, he likes to think he’d have a fairly promising career tutoring his peers. It’s not like he actively seeks out students to help; every now and again, one happens to fall into his lap to the tune of, “Kun, I know you were going to teach everyone a new trick today, but if I don’t pass this exam in Core Biology, I’m going to fail the class, and Jaehyun told me you took this professor last semester.”

Or rather, Ten falls into the seat next to him looking more shaken than he’s ever seen him, thrusting his book in his direction like Kun could help him absorb the information through osmosis and willpower alone. Jaemin pauses mid-question, mouth closing before he blinks once and turns his attention to Jeno instead, seeming to understand that there are more pressing matters than Kun’s humble, but totally expert, opinion on Twice's latest comeback.

The realization dawns on him a moment later, when he's caught up in the look of sheer panic that's settled on Ten's face; there's far more at stake with this exam, more pressure for Ten than there had been for Kun when he'd taken the class the previous semester and aced it with flying colors.

Ten’s dance scholarship hangs in the balance.

Kun will be damned if he lets Ten fail.

“Okay, what do you need help with?” he asks, rolling up his sleeves and reaching past Jaemin to grab the spare pencil.

Kun really shouldn’t be surprised when Ten gulps and whispers, “Everything.”

They study for the entirety of the club meeting, hunched over Ten’s biology textbook and Kun’s open laptop, drifting between the words on the page and the notes Kun had managed to pull up from last semester, thorough and perfectly organized. They look up only to bid their goodbyes as their friends file out one by one, Renjun throwing a pointed, “Don’t melt your brains!” in their direction before darting out of the room, running to catch up with Jeno.

When Chenle leaves and they’re left alone, Ten leans back in his chair, hands pressed over his face to muffle his groan. “I’m fucked,” he says simply. “I’m _fucked_ , Kun. There’s no way I’m going to pass this exam. There’s no way I’m going to pass this _class_.”

“You’re going to be fine,” Kun says, as reassuringly as he can muster, placing a comforting hand on Ten’s shoulder. He doesn’t miss the way Ten stiffens under his touch, glancing up before he draws his hand back, expression unreadable.

Just as quickly as it came, though, the moment passes, and Kun shakes it off. He reaches out to cover the diagram of the cell with the palm of his hand, obscuring it from view. and turns to Ten, calm, like he’s dealing with an easily spooked animal. Given Ten's general reaction to anything regarding biology, he might as well be. “Okay, we’ve been over this. What’s the powerhouse of the cell?”

Ten answers, “the Nucleus!” with such confidence that Kun shouldn’t laugh, but it bubbles up and over until his sides hurt and his mouth has been stretched wide with a grin, the echo of it bouncing off the walls and resonating in the empty room. When he finally collects himself, Ten’s sporting a fairly impressive pout, but he doesn’t look offended. If anything, he looks a little amused himself, whatever tension that had collected in his bones dissipating, like the sound of Kun’s laughter had relaxed him.

“You know I was just kidding, right?” he asks. He chews at his lip, and then says diligently, just like they'd practiced, “the Mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell. I’m hopeless, but not _that_ hopeless.”

Kun slaps Ten’s upper arm none too harshly, jabbing an accusatory finger in his direction. “You’re an ass! I’m trying to help you!”

That seems to pull Ten back, gaze dropping to the table and grin dimming before he’s looking back up, expression open and earnest. When he speaks, his voice is soft. “Hey, I know. I know, and I can’t thank you enough. You looked like you needed a laugh, though, and I could have used one too.”

“Ha ha ha,” Kun retorts, if only to enjoy the way Ten chuckles in response. “I thought I was a horrible teacher. What if I was leading you astray and you failed because of me? Because I couldn’t manage to teach you that the Mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell?”

Ten’s expression shifts, once again unreadable, and Kun feels warm when he leans in closer to murmur lowly, “I think you’d be a great teacher, Kun.”

And Kun, wholly unimpressed and shifting a little uncomfortably in his seat, doesn’t even want to start unpacking that.

♡

**5.**

It all comes to a head some weeks later, the prospect of _something_ simmering just below the surface. It’s a game of _will he_ or _won’t he,_ tug of war with Kun’s heart caught somewhere in the cross-hairs. He shouldn’t rely on Ten to make the first move, and Taeil told him as much, letting out a frustrated groan as the heel of his palm met the center of his forehead while they were studying that morning, but the skill of biting the bullet is far from one he’s mastered, and when it comes to taking a leap of faith…

Well, he's always had a fear of heights.

“Pick a card,” Kun instructs, the very beginnings of a smile starting to appear on his mouth.

It’s a new trick he’d taught himself in the days before, a little more complex than the ones teaches to the club when he's sandwiched between Jaemin and Renjun, a roomful of eyes trained on his hands. If anyone asked, he’d tell them that it’s really not that impressive. Deep down, however, he’s a little proud of it. If his chest puffs out when all is said and done, he hopes no one comments on it.

“Any card,” Ten adds unhelpfully.

“Ten, stick to the script and stop stealing my lines.”

“Okay, okay,” says Ten, hands up in mock surrender before he reaches out to select his card. He glances at it once before slipping it back where he’d taken it from, placing his palms back flat on the table when he’s done.

Kun arranges the cards back to a solid deck in his hands from the splay they were previously in and begins to shuffle, fingers moving expertly over the cards as he works. He can feel the heat of Ten’s gaze on him, knows that if he looked up, Ten would be caught looking back.

He’s a little scared of what he would find in Ten’s eyes, and what emotions Ten would see reflected in his own.

Deft fingers continue their intricate shuffle; he can hear Chenle murmuring softly to Jeno in the background, accompanied by the small huff to his left from Jaemin every time he repeats the process until he’s spreading out the cards on the table, all face up save for a group of five in the middle. Ten’s gaze is still on him, a warm sort of pressure, almost ever present, and Kun can feel his cheeks heat under the weight of it.

Looking back on it, he won’t know _why_ he did it. When he inevitably tries to explain it to Taeil, he'll draw a blank. 

It’s dramatic — rash, uncharacteristic of him to deem a mole hill a mountain. It toes the fine line of being a little pathetic, and he knows Sicheng will have his ass for it. Rightfully so.

Yet under the heaviness of Ten’s stare, he falters.

Kun sets Ten up for failure the moment he deliberately missteps, shuffles the cards once more than the directions for the trick had instructed, leaving Ten’s card at the far side of the remaining five with an unknown card in the center, right where Ten’s should have been.

Maybe it's because he wants so bad for whatever this feeling is buzzing between them to be real, wants almost desperately for the pangs of affection he feels to be returned — not because Ten wants a good fuck, wants to add another name and notch to the bedpost that’s become legendary on campus, but because maybe, just maybe, Ten likes him too.

He doesn’t want Ten to try and impress him. He just wants Ten to _like him_. Shouldn’t that be enough?

It’s a test, almost a game of sorts. Kun realizes, feeling a little sick, that Ten doesn't even realize they're playing.

“Is this your card?” Kun asks eventually, trying to keep his voice steady as he flips over the card in the center to reveal the Six of Clubs.

In Ten’s defense, he gives pause. His teeth bite at the inside of his cheek while he looks like he thinks it over, like he’s trying to determine the best course of action. A second later, though, a smile spreads his lips and he nods.

“That’s my card! You’re good at this, Kun. Do you think you could show us how?”

He should let it go. He should let it go and—

“No, it’s not.”

“What? Kun, that’s my card.”

Kun inhales through his nose, exhales through his mouth. “That’s not your card.”

Ten at least has the decency to look surprised, but Kun can see it for what it truly is: embarrassment that he got caught, and deeper, just barely below the surface, a little miffed that Kun couldn’t leave well enough alone.

Beside him, Jaemin makes a questioning noise, glancing between the two of them the way a child might when mom and dad care fighting: curious enough, but not quite enough to comment on it.

“I did the trick wrong,” Kun admits, and the shame of it pools heavy in his stomach. His cheeks flame with embarrassment, reddened and ruddy under the harsh university lighting. It wasn’t worth it, he thinks, but it’s too late to turn back now. They’re past the point of no return, the clock of the illusion that this was anything _more_ striking midnight. He wants to be proud for realizing it. Should be proud, he thinks.

He's not proud. Not even close. “I thought you’d catch it.”

Across the table, someone thumps Ten in the back. Chenle sighs, "Now you've done it." 

“Kun, I—”

“Didn’t want to embarrass me, I get it. You just wanted to _impress me_. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

Ten’s mouth opens and closes rapidly over the span of the next thirty seconds, like he’s trying to find the right words, a gaping fish in a flash before his jaws snap closed, only to fall back open before the pattern repeats.

Kun really doesn’t want to be there anymore.

“I have to go,” he says, and it’s a mirror image of that afternoon across from Taeil, Kun running away from the truth, because it’s the easier pill to swallow.

This time, he doesn’t glance behind him when he goes.

♡

**\+ 1.**

“I’m sorry,” a voice says behind him.

Kun doesn’t need to turn around to know its Ten behind him, mouth turned down at the edges — caught somewhere between a frown and his usual grin. He resists the urge to roll his eyes, continuing to shove his belongings into his bag a little faster now, more out of sheer desperation to avoid the conversation than anything else.

They haven’t talked since what Chenle so eloquently dubbed _The Incident_. Or rather, Ten tried to talk, all while Kun grunted out one or two word answers in response, petulantly like a child. He never claimed to be the most mature person in the room. If people ever assumed as much, that’s on them.

“Look," Ten continues, and Kun pauses, if only to not be blatantly rude. His mother taught him some manners, after all. He's not going to disappoint her. “What I did… it was kind of a dick move. But I didn’t think you’d get this upset, Kun. I didn’t know I’d make you mad. I just thought that — Okay, I don’t know what I was thinking. I wasn’t thinking.”

He can’t help but snort a bit at that. If they were on better terms, he might throw a teasing “ _you never are_ ” over his shoulder, relish in the way Ten’s hand would connect gently with his shoulder in a rather pathetic excuse of a punch.

But they’re not on better terms. He keeps his gaze on the ground.

“Yeah, yeah. I wasn’t thinking — I never am, right?” Ten fills in for him, and despite it all, Kun can’t help but crack a small smile. “You never make mistakes, so I guess that should have been the first clue. But you were so confident when you asked, and everyone was watching… You were right, I didn’t want to embarrass you. I didn’t want to put you on the spot.”

And maybe Kun had overreacted about the whole thing, but he’d been so hopeful that Ten had joined Card Magic Club because he genuinely wanted to be there, not because Sicheng had put him up to it, not because he was searching for a conquest somewhere in between the Ace of Spades and Queen of Hearts. Yet, at the end of it all, Ten seemingly confirmed his worst fear.

“But you did anyway,” Kun says softly.

Ten makes a noise of acknowledgement in the back of his throat. “Yeah, I did.”

It takes another moment for Kun to straighten, setting his backpack back down on the table before turning around. Ten’s got his hands in his pockets, the plush fullness of his bottom lip caught between his teeth; he’s not particularly big on a good day, but he looks smaller somehow. For the first time since they met, Ten looks nervous, out of his element, a little on edge. The sight is enough for Kun to soften, just a bit.

“Ten, why did you want to join Card Magic Club?”

Ten shifts on his feet, pulling one of his hands from his pocket to scratch at the back of his neck, fingers moving over the hairs at his nape. He’s sheepish, like Kun has flipped the script yet again and put him on the spot, and maybe he has. He knows that Ten wasn’t there to learn card tricks, wasn’t there because he suddenly became enamored with the ins and outs of magical illusions. He isn't stupid.

He knows why.

He just wants to hear Ten _say it_.

“Sicheng told me it would impress you,” Ten says finally, dropping the bomb at the same time he drops his hand back to his side. There’s a bit of a wince accompanying the words, like it kills him a little to even admit it. “So, he told me to ask you if I could join, said you wouldn’t turn anyone away. Even me. And you were right about that, too. I wanted to impress you.”

And so the universe _had_ been conspiring against him, and Sicheng, no doubt, a willing accomplice. 

“You didn’t need to join Card Magic Club to impress me,” Kun murmurs, a soft smile forming on his mouth. That much is true; Kun hasn’t found himself very impressed with the stunt at all, save for the way Ten had managed to fit himself in seamlessly, carving out his own space in the group. Had been able to become friends with nearly every member of the club almost immediately. That, Kun has to admit, is a little impressive.

He chews on his bottom lip for a moment. (" _Just be honest with him_ ,” Taeil had groaned a couple of weeks ago, when Kun finally came to the foregone conclusion that the sensation of butterflies taking flight in the pit of his stomach was hardly related to indigestion, and more related to the fact that he’d grown to actually _like_ Ten.) He thinks about confessing right there on the spot just to end his own suffering, thinks — for his own personal payback — about drawing it out just to see Ten continue to squirm.

In the end: “You just had to be you,” Kun says, the confession gentle on his tongue.

Ten blinks. “You hated me before I joined Card Magic Club.”

Kun quirks an eyebrow. The tension that had been pulled taut between them snaps, just like that, and the natural ease of their banter returns; for the first time in a week, Kun swears he breathes a little easier. “Maybe I still do.”

With a soft laugh, Ten juts his bottom lip out into a slight pout. “You wound me, Kun,” and then, quieter, “So it didn’t work?”

“No.” In his defense, it’s not a boldfaced lie. Brutal honesty: the best policy.

The pout is back in full force with his response, and Kun’s almost expecting Ten to stomp his foot and throw a bit of a tantrum. Instead, he reaches back into his pocket, procuring a deck of cards only a second later.

“Give me one more chance, yeah?”

Really, he should say no. He should stress that it isn’t necessary. After all, Ten trying to impress him is what had gotten them into this mess to begin with, entrapped in a game of cat and mouse, but then Ten’s brandishing the deck, spreading the cards out in his hand before holding them out and beckoning silently with his mischief-laced smile for Kun to _pick one_.

What is he supposed to do? Say no?

He ends up picking one a little off center in the way he always does when he’s on the receiving end of a trick. He pulls it back carefully, as to not disturb the other cards, before flipping it over in his hand, careful to keep it shielded from Ten’s view.

_King of Hearts._

The chuckle rises up in his throat before he thinks better of stopping it. It’s fitting, really. Tens eyebrows draw together, and this time, Kun reaches out between them to smooth the crease that forms there with the pad of his thumb. “You’ll get wrinkles,” he wants to say, but Ten’s mouth is opening like he’s going to question the laughter, before he clearly reconsiders and snaps his mouth closed.

Wordlessly, Kun slips the card back where he’d taken it from. He pats the back of it with his index finger once, like he’s trying to impart some good luck on it.

Ten shuffles the cards in his hand a little longer than Kun thinks is truly necessary, but it’s hard to complain when his tongue pokes out from between his lips and his brow re-furrows slightly in concentration. Kun’s tempted to tell him not to think so hard, to be careful because he might hurt himself, but Ten looks like he’s in his element, like he practiced for this.

It’s hard not to blanch a little at the thought: Ten _practiced_ for this. The mere idea of it has Kun’s cheeks heating, a warmth blooming in his chest to accompany the newly settled feeling of fondness there; Ten deemed this important enough to prepare for, like he’s trying to right his wrong, giving it one last shot to impress him and really make it count—

“Is this your card?”

Held between two fingers is the King of Hearts in all its glory, the image of the king obscured by a question scrawled in black sharpie. It’s no better than chicken scratch, and Kun’s seen Ten’s notes first hand, so it’s not surprising when he has to lean forward to get a better look.

_Will you go out with me?_

Looking back on it, Kun will realize one day in the not-so-distant future that the proper response should have been anything but a dumb-struck, “ _What?_ ”

The proper response was probably something along the lines of a simple, yet heartfelt, “Yes” behind the hand slapped over his mouth, or a sincere “Of course I will” as he plucks the card from Ten’s grasp for safe keeping.

Ten does have a way of flipping the world on its axis, though, and perhaps it was always destiny that Kun fall victim to it.

It’s impressive. It’s more than impressive, really. Kun doesn’t mean to judge, but he’s awarding high marks for creativity and execution; bonus points for the way it makes something hot and wet prickle in the corners of his eyes. It’s so painfully _Ten_ that Kun can’t help but swoon a bit with it, emotions already running high. He’s not going to cry over a magic trick. He’s not.

“Is that a yes?” Ten asks after a moment. The smile he’s wearing isn’t cocky. It’s soft around the edges, more than a little hopeful. It should say enough that Kun’s already nodding before he can even get the question out fully.

Ten seems more than pleased with the silent answer, reaching out and into the space between them to grab Kun’s hand and lace their fingers together. “Good,” he says, “because I like you, Kun. I like you a lot. It was a bad idea, but do you think I try to impress the people I don’t?”

And when Sicheng asks later, with his head pillowed on Kun’s shoulder and his fingers toying with the string of a hoodie that he definitely stole from the closet opposite his own, Kun will chide him for thinking that his plan could ever work.

“What would you have done if I really ended up hating him?” Kun will ask, and Sicheng will smirk in the way that he always does, like they’re sharing a secret — only this time, Kun will be privy.

“You never hated him,” Sicheng will reply. “You just needed a push.”

In the present, though:

“If you tell me how you did that, I’ll go out with you.”

Ten laughs, this bright and full-bodied thing, like a weight’s been lifted off of his shoulders. “Oh, Kun,” he sighs, and the fondness coloring his voice perfectly matches the fondness stuck to the empty spaces between Kun’s ribs. “You know better than anyone that a magician never reveals his tricks.”

**Author's Note:**

> ("Wait," Kun interrupts, effectively cutting Ten's explanation of the trick off. "Let me get this straight: you mean to tell me every single card was a King of Hearts? And you marked the one card you'd written on so you could pull it out?"
> 
> Ten grins triumphantly, chest proud and puffed out. Kun wants to kiss the smile off his face, just because he can — they've been dating for three months now; he figures he's allowed. "Impressive right?"
> 
> He swears its not for the benefit of Ten's ego when he leans in closer to whisper, "Of course it is.")
> 
> * * *
> 
> [twt.](https://twitter.com/seokvelvets)


End file.
